An Insurance Broker Receives A Frantic Call From His Newlywed Daughter

 

Hello?

Oh hi sweethea- whoa! Jenny! Jenny, hon, you gotta slow down, I can’t understand a word you’re saying.

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Jenny.

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Jenny! For god’s sake, calm down! Ok?

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Now just take a deep breath and start from the beginning, sweetheart. Tell me what’s the matter. Are you ok? Is Johnathan injured?

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Sure, take your time, darling.

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Speaking of which, have you guys made much progress? You do still need your mother and me to help you guys unpack everything, right? Because we’re planning to come over right after lunch. She’s actually out right now, buying more stuff to go in your kitchen, things that you guys must have missed out on in your registry, or, really, oh, who the hell knows with her.

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Sorry – keep going, I’m listening, I swear.

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Jenny, I told you kids to wait until I got there so Johnathan and I could carry that thing up those stairs; matter of fact, I made sure to reiterate this point just last night. Those stairs go almost straight up, they’re narrow as hell, and I just knew it was gonna be too heavy for you, I just knew it. So that’s it, isn’t it? You dropped Grandmother Anderson’s antique sea chest on Johnathan, didn’t you?

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Oh. Well it woulda served you right if it had! Relegating a gorgeous piece of woodworking like that to the attic, unbelievable! You’re lucky your grandmother isn’t still alive to hear about this one, believe me!

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Ok, ok, sorry! Keep going, sweetheart, I promise I’ll shut up.

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You got it up there? Just the two of you? Hey, did you check the insulation up there like I’d asked ya to? Because you have no idea how much you can save on a power bill when you- sorry! I promise I’ll stop interrupting – but seriously, you’d be shocked. Just try to check on the insulation next time you’re up there, ok?

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A sound? Like what kinda sound, like a squirrel sound? Was it a quiet one? Or a bigger sound, like you think it could have been maybe a possum or something?

-because if it’s a possum, you do not want that thing giving birth up there, trust me on this one, Jen. Bill Carter had a possum in his attic, and those litters have something like a 50% mortality rate, so you can just imagine the smell up there, even after only one day.

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Well then what was it, Jenny?

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A what?

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Well how the hell could you even tell that?

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And so you sent him back up there alone? With a tennis racket? Why on earth would you do that? If you think there’s a damn person up there hiding in your attic, there’s no telling what kind of situation you’ve got on your hands; we’re talking crackheads, meth junkies, escaped convicts, any number of possible scenarios. So what did it end up being? Is this what had you jabbering your head off when you called?

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He’s up there now? As in all this just happened and is still happening? Jenny! You put down this phone and you get up there with a knife and you provide your husband with some back-up, you hear me? I don’t know what HBO or Facebook has lead you to believe about marriage, but this right here is what being married’s all about, sweetie, so you might as well get used to it.

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Don’tcha think you should get off the phone? That way you’ll have both hands free? Well did you at least give him a damn flashlight before sending him back up there alone? Oh Jenny!

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What’d he just say?

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Well good for him, and I actually don’t blame the guy! Hand him the flashlight, Jenny, he needs to go up there first. Look, maybe you should just put him on so I can tell him what to look for when he pokes his head up there; you know, if there really is a crackhead in your attic. But I seriously doubt that’s a possibility. It’s not like you’re in a gentrified neighborhood or anything. Matter of fact, you’d be hard pressed to find even one black perso-

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Ok, fine, but just know this: you’re putting your husband at risk, sweetie. That’s all I’m saying.

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Be careful! Will you tell him to be careful! What’s he doing?

(30 seconds pass silently)

Jenny!

Jenny, what’s happening? What happened Jenny! Tell me what’s happening!

(Phone line goes dead. He waits a moment, debating what to do next, his eyes oscillating in their sockets like they always do when he’s making a decision. He reaches for his car keys, and moves for the door when the phone rings. It’s Jenny.)

Sweetheart, are you ok? Are you safe? What happened? Please just tell me you’re safe, Jenny, I’m on my way over there right this minute!

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Did you call the police? Where are you now?

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Good! You stay out there, and wait til I arrive. You do not, under any circumstances, go back in that house, do you hear me Jenny?

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And why the hell not? If you guys are in danger, I’m not gonna just sit here and hope for the best, that’s not what fathers do. Jenny Marie Anderson, you’d  better tell me what’s going on right now, young lady!

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Sorry, Zuckerman. I’m still getting used to your new last name, you’re gonna have to give me some time.

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Sweetheart, you’ve gotta calm down, ok? Take a deep breath.

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Now why don’t you want me to come over there?

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Jen, if you don’t tell me right now why I can’t come over or why you’re not calling the cops, we’re about to have ourselves a real problem here. I mean, you come back on the line, screaming, then the phone goes dead, and right when I’m about to have a heart attack slash get in the car and drive over there, you call back and tell me you’re out in the yard but you won’t call the police and you don’t want me to come over. What the hell’s going on?

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He thinks it might be what? Are you freaking kidding me?

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Jenny! That’s it, I’m coming over right now, this has gone far enough. Unbelievable! Kid tells me now that she’s got ghosts in her attic, ghosts! Sweetheart, I’m going to avoid mentioning Johnathan’s religious beliefs right now in relation to this, but-

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And how do you even know that? Will you listen to yourself?

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So you’re telling me that because your Jewish husband thinks he saw a really pale white kid in a suit up there, you’re telling me that this means your new house is haunted by the ghost of a teenager? This is what you’re telling me?

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No! I told you, I don’t even care that he’s Jewish! I’m not sure why that even came out the way it did, Jenny, I’m sorry. But you can’t just stand there in the front yard all day because you think you got a ghost up in your attic, you just can’t!

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She told you that? Well, come to think of it, that does explain how you kids got a house like that for so cheap. You know, if ghosts and shit were actually real things!

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And you never thought to mention this alleged death to me during the whole closing process?

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What am I doing? There’s no ghost up there, Jenny! That’s a freaking trespasser in your house, and he’s gotta go, plain and simple.

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Well, it’s pretty easy, actually: you can either call the cops; you can let your father get in the car and drive over there so he can take control of the situation, like he was trained to, honey, and in Vietnam, no less; or you and your husband can get back in there and start coaxing the damn kid who’s holed up in your attic, you can coax the son of a bitch right outta there.

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This is why you need me there! If he doesn’t come out when you talk nice to him, you threaten to shoot the little bastard. You tell him you’re going to put an exit wound in him the size of a saucer, that’ll get his ass up and moving, trust me.

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It’s not a goddamn ghost, Jenny! Will you listen to yourself! You went to Princeton, for God’s sake! Johnathan, too! This is unbelievable!

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I’m sorry. You’re right, I shouldn’t ever talk to you like that, sweetie, you’re exactly right. Under no circumstances. And I apologize. But can ya at least try to look at this from my perspective? You’re not doing me, or yourselves, any favors here, kiddo. And also, honey, we’ve talked about how my traumatic experiences in Laos and Cambodia, you know, how they, uh, well, traumatized me, and so that’s why I sometimes get agitated, remember?

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No, you’re right, and I’m sorry. But let’s just focus on the kid right now, ok?

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Ok, fine, ghost. We’ll call him a ghost. Whatever. Let’s focus on getting the ghost to bring his little squatter ass down from your attic, ok? And just so we’re clear on this, I was a POW of the gooks for eighteen months, honey, eighteen of the longest months anyone’s ever spent and-

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No, you’re right.

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Exactly! That’s exactly right, Jenny. That’s exactly right- there are two of you and one of him, and this is your house now, that’s right! You guys can do this! March right back in there and order that little jerk down from there, and you do so in a firm, authoritative voice. That’s exactly right.

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Well where are you, then?

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You’re gonna have to go where he can hear you, honey. Look, there’s nothing to be afraid of, I’m sure he’s way more frightened than you are. But you gotta go up to the attic stairs, at the very least, sweetie, cause he’s not going to hear you if you’re still in the front hallway, I don’t care how well sound carries on those hardwood floors.

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That’s right. You can do this! Tell Johnathan I said that for him, too- tell him your Dad said that he could do this. And be sure not to tell him about me saying anything about him being Jewish, remember?

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Jenny! What was that? That sounded like something shattered! What’s going on, talk to me!

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Sweet Jesus! You left the everything in the chest when you carried it up there, didn’t you?

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So that’s what broke?

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Jenny, those are porcelain! They belonged to your great-grandmother! You get up those stairs and you get that bastard kid out of there, I don’t care if you have to beat him half to death, those are heirlooms, Jenny!

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Those ‘cheap-ass dog figurines’ survived getting torpedoed by the Nazis, I’ll have you know.

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What’s happening now? Who’s voice is that screaming? Jenny? What’s happening? What’s that noise?

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Yes, yes! Get out of there, Jenny! Get in the car and you drive straight here, you hear me? Come straight here, we’ll figure out what to do, sweetie, everything’s going to be ok. Please stop crying, Jen, ok? Everything’s going to be ok, I promise. I promise, promise, promise.

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Ok. See you soon. I love you sweetheart.

________________________________

The father placed his phone on the coffee table and eased himself into the blue chair, his favorite chair, the one facing the front window. The house was still, quiet. Outside, the midday sun glowed bright yellow beyond the gently swaying leaves of their big oak tree. He was staring at the mailbox across the street, the new one the Winklers had brought back from their vacation in Germany. He sighed.

“Guess they’re just going to have to learn to live with it, though I hate that they couldn’t have at least a year on their own as a married couple. But they’ll be fine, they’re both good kids. Smart, too. Yeah, they’ll sort it out. Hell, if we could, anyone can.”

The images of an older man and woman materialized on the sofa to his left. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, they appeared as if rays of light reflected by airborne dust, like the beam of light over the heads of moviegoers in a darkened theater. The man and woman were older, probably in their late sixties. At least, they had been. Their clothes suggested that they were from an older time, one long before the father had even been born, from back when his own mother starred in black and white photos as a child. The father turned his head slightly to regard them, only moving his neck, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still and fixed. The older couple were translucent, flickering. Though he could still see through to the cream colored upholstery of the big sofa they were primly seated on, he could also make out quite clearly the details of the couple’s formal attire, the clothes they’d been wearing on that final day, in that final moment; these were the vestments they’d always be dressed in, for an eternity. A top hat and tails for the gentleman, his bushy white mustache and golden watch chain. The woman seated closely beside him, their legs and arms nearly touching. Her silver hair in a tight bun; her evening gown formal, sleek, shimmery in black. They then turned their heads to meet the father’s eyes.

“A teenager, though, talk about your bad luck,” the father said. He whistled. Leaning back to rest his head on the chair’s cushion, the father closed his eyes. He exhaled a deep breath and awaited the anxious arrival of his daughter and son in law.